Across the World and Back Again
by Peppermint Kiss
Summary: Tezuka and Fuji are living comfortable lives on two separate continents, far away from each other. However, they both don't want to admit that they miss the other's presence, until Fuji decides to return and throws Tezuka's whole life out of balance.
1. Champagne

**Across the World and Back Again - Chapter One**

**author:** Peppermint Kiss

**date:** 12.30.07

**disclaimer:** I don't own Prince of Tennis! Please don't sue me.

**author's notes:** Um, basically, I just wanted to know the public's opinion of my first TezuFuji multichap fic, and my first TezuFuji fic published here. Please let me know what you think of it!! Also, there's Atobe/Tezuka _friendship_, and nothing more. This fic is strictly TezuFuji.

On with the story!

* * *

The paparazzi milled around excitedly outside of the Tokyo Museum of Art's annual New Year's gala, a star-studded event that had only the rich and elite of Japan attending this lavish, over-the-top function when champagne, as well as talk and gossip, flowed freely. 

Delicate flutes filled with sparkling, bubbling champagne clinked throughout the grand ballroom in the five-star hotel in downtown Tokyo where the function was being held. Outside, flashbulbs went off madly as yet another famous actor or actress stepped out of a limousine and glided into the hotel for a night of partying and counting down the minutes until the New Year.

Small lights were strung throughout the barren sakura trees outside the windows in the hotel's courtyard, where the winds were harsh and bitingly cold. Inside however, the atmosphere was anything but cold; it was warm and cheery, filled with the chatter of people talking as they moved about and sipped champagne, and the occasional trill of laughter in the ballroom hidden from the outside world by ornate, closed doors.

Tezuka Kunimitsu glanced around the surroundings as he gracefully balanced a flute of champagne in between his fingers, taking in everything from the models and actresses that he had only seen in magazines in their slinky, flowing gowns, to the grand crystal chandelier looming over the crowd of people, to the paparazzi with their cameras, yelling at whoever was walking down the pathway to the hotel to join the gala to stop and pose for a few more pictures.

He found it hard to believe that even though he had only faintly heard talk of Tokyo's premier New Year's gala, the bash that everybody who was _anybody_ attended, he was standing here now, ensconced amongst the most widely talked about celebrities in Japan, and even some foreign ones.

He wouldn't have been here if it had been a choice of his own, but his boss at the law firm that Tezuka worked at had asked him to come and "make an appearance – have you heard the hype surrounding you? 'Up and coming best lawyer in Tokyo', huh? Come on, it'll be good for the company." Tezuka had wanted to stare blankly into his boss' face and say no, he hated parties, but he decided that he didn't want to jeopardize his luck at landing a spot in the best law firm in Tokyo, so he went home to dress impeccably in a Western-style tuxedo before wading into the mess that was the most talked-about New Year's gala in all of Japan.

"Oi, Kunimitsu! Made it, didn't you?" Tezuka whirled around to see one smirking Atobe Keigo standing behind him, dressed in all of his grandeur and with his hair coiffed to perfection.

"Obviously, Keigo," Tezuka replied dryly. "You're late."

Atobe looked miffed. "Fashionably late," he corrected Tezuka. "And is that how you greet an old friend? 'You're late'? It's not like we're in cahoots to pull off a tryst with ore-sama and Narikawa Ayano over there in the corner, are we?"

Tezuka rolled his eyes, and considered dumping his champagne on Atobe, if only to see the expression on his face as "ore-sama" got his hair ruined and his clothes wet. "Keigo," he began wearily.

"Hm?" Atobe asked absentmindedly, leaning back against the wall next to Tezuka and greedily observing the movements of one Narikawa Ayano, the famous actress.

"Shut up."

Atobe did.

* * *

After leaving Seigaku and graduating from high school, Tezuka's excellent grades had earned him a spot in the University of Tokyo, the best university in Japan. Many had expressed surprise that Tezuka had chosen to go to law school to become a lawyer instead of becoming a pro tennis player, including one loud-mouthed Atobe Keigo. 

Atobe had also qualified to attend the University of Tokyo, because to matter how spoilt and arrogant the former Hyotei tennis captain was, his grades were still unarguably superior. The Monkey King (as one Echizen Ryoma had not-so-affectionately dubbed Atobe back in the days when the rivalry between Seigaku and Hyotei had been great) had graduated from the University of Tokyo alongside Tezuka, and Tezuka had realized with surprise one afternoon as they sat in a café in Tokyo shortly after graduation that he and the "Monkey King" had become good friends, in a rather awkward, but nevertheless strong, relationship.

Tezuka had gone on to pursue law at the Law School at the University of Tokyo, and Atobe was never too far away, since he had taken over the family business, Atobe Enterprises, almost immediately after college graduation, and Atobe Enterprises was based in Tokyo, anyways. Atobe Enterprises had never experienced a better period of time as their stocks leaped and revenue increased due to several smart deals negotiated on Atobe Keigo's part to boost the company to be the #1 company in Japan.

After law school, Tezuka had hopped around to see which law firm would take a young, aspiring lawyer fresh from the university, and he had been pleasantly surprised when the best and most renowned law firm in Tokyo (and possibly Japan) offered Tezuka a low, but still satisfactory, job at their firm. Tezuka had thought it was joke until Atobe hit him over the head and Tezuka had decided to accept the job.

He had appeared on several cases with his law firm, often winning the trial, but sometimes he accidentally gathered hype just for his strategy and clear, concise way of attacking in the courtroom even though he lost the case.

Tezuka didn't even understand his skyrocketing status until his boss showed him a magazine article in a law magazine (magazines on law existed?) detailing "Tokyo's new sensation: Tezuka Kunimitsu" and Atobe then decided to shove a printout under his nose of some girls that had decided to start their very own Tezuka Kunimitsu fan club.

Like the girls that followed him around in middle and high school didn't start their own fan clubs.

Atobe had then decided, because life was pretty jolly for both of them right now – Atobe Enterprises had decided to expand into Germany and possibly the United States; Tezuka had completed yet another successful case and there was talk of him being named a partner of the law firm soon – so Atobe, being Atobe, decided that Tezuka needed either a girlfriend, a boyfriend, or a good lay (Tezuka had been gay back in high school, a fact that had somewhat amused Atobe once they caught up together at the University of Tokyo, but now Atobe was completely mystified as to where his friend's sexual preferences lay).

It had taken Tezuka most (if not all) of his restraint to not strangle his (admittedly so) best friend sitting lazily behind the large desk in the Atobe Enterprises headquarters with a stunning view of Tokyo laid out behind Atobe's cocked head and inquisitive eyes.

"_Kunimitsu, maybe you should stop," Atobe had then cautiously decided to say based off of the murderous look in Tezuka's eyes behind his glinting glasses. "He's been busy in America, and even here in Japan we hear all the hype he's been gathering in New York, Los Angeles—"_

"_I know," Tezuka gritted out, unaware that he had balled his hands up into fists until he felt nails digging into his palms. "Keigo, don't..."_

_Atobe peererd at his friend concernedly, a rare occurrence for the diva. "Kunimitsu, I don't know what the hell happened between you two, but it's been years. Surely..."_

"_I know," Tezuka repeated shortly, feeling foolish and frustrated. "Shut up, Keigo," he mumbled, the words tumbling out of his mouth like some kind of twisted reflex. Without another word, though, he turned on his heel and stalked out of Atobe's office, slamming the heavy door behind him._

_Atobe raised a fine eyebrow at Tezuka's dramatic exit. "I guess that means our plans at the bar are canceled, huh?"_

* * *

"Ne, Kunimitsu, guess what?" 

Atobe had decided to open his mouth again, and Tezuka didn't appreciate that, because usually it would be some perverted comment or more sighing over "Ayano-chan".

"What?" he asked grouchily, staring morosely at the champagne in his flute and deciding to hell with self-restraint, and downing the fizzing liquid in one gulp.

"I heard that somebody special's coming to this party tonight," Atobe continued, being unusually cryptic, a point that did not bode well with Tezuka's headache (as usual at grand parties like these).

"Yeah? Like who?" Tezuka bit out, distantly thinking that alcohol seemed like a very good idea this evening, after throwing all thoughts of self-restraint out of the window.

He tried to scour the ballroom for a waiter to nab another flute of champagne off of, or possibly the whole bottle of champagne (since because it was a New Year's gala, they couldn't serve wine, beer, liquor, or cocktails like normal parties – no, it was only champagne tonight!), but then the next words Atobe said completely caught Tezuka off guard.

"Fuji Syuusuke."

Thoughts of the ever-smiling boy-turned-man that Tezuka had grown up with whirled rapidly in his head, in a blizzard of thoughts consisting of love, piercing cerulean blue eyes, Fuji's warm breath on Tezuka's skin, and then, a heavy sense of betrayal, grief, and regret.

"What?" Tezuka croaked, his eyes trying to bore through Atobe as if seeking solace that this wasn't true. "But—he's in America…"

"Well, he decided to return to Japan," Atobe said, as casually as he could under the pinning stare of his friend.

Atobe turned to his shocked friend and grinned in a cat-like, devious way, pointing to a person about half-way across the room that was surrounded by a large crowd. "Look, Kunimitsu, there he is. Fuji Syuusuke."

-_to be continued..._-

**A/N:** So, what'd you think? Let me know! Also, I have no idea if the Tokyo Museum of Art hosts a New Year's gala or not...the party is all a figment of my imagination XD

Atobe and Tezuka refer to each other by their first names because they're really good friends.

**1.1.08** - Changed the flashback a bit, so now it's more cryptic and suits my plot better. Sorry to all of those who read the first version.

**Please review!**


	2. Too Late

**Across the World and Back Again** **- Chapter Two**

**author: **Peppermint Kiss

**date:** 1.1.08

**disclaimer:** I don't own Prince of Tennis! Konomi does.

**author's notes:** I'm so glad with all of the support I gathered for this story, and I'm so glad you like it. Warning: potential Tezuka OOCness, but I guess it only seems fitting for the situation. Enjoy!

* * *

"_Look Kunimitsu, there he is. Fuji Syuusuke."_

* * *

Time seemed to freeze of its own volition as Tezuka slowly turned around and he locked onto a familiar head of silky, light-brown hair and an expanse of pale skin. 

The chatter in the ballroom melted away and Atobe's words, whatever they were, dissipated into the air. For just that one second (or maybe two), Fuji Syuusuke filled up Tezuka's whole world.

Tezuka's last glimpse of Fuji in person had been at the airport, so many years ago, when his fingers that had been grasped around Fuji's wrist fell and Fuji turned away in a whirl of flying strands of hair before he silently walked away and melded into the crowd rushing around in the airport. Tezuka had drawn breath to yell Fuji's name, to bring him back and tell him of all the things he had never said, but instead, only the tiniest hoarse whisper issued out of Tezuka's mouth as Fuji rounded the corner and disappeared, forever.

"_Syuusuke…"_

For the next few years, Tezuka felt like he only lived because of his determination to become a top lawyer (and also to satisfy his family's wishes). Those once-a-week (and often times more) dates at the bar a little bit from campus with Atobe also helped Tezuka, as he laughed a rare laugh at Atobe's antics and how Atobe always, without fail, got drunk in four minutes flat regardless of his drunken assertions that he could hold his alcohol.

Tezuka lived, flipping through everything from the daily newspaper, to magazines, to channels on the TV, to see a glimpse of Fuji, no matter how evanescent they were. Fuji peering up at Tezuka from a newspaper clipping, his eyes hidden behind that mysterious smile; Fuji dressed in casual slacks and a cream sweater that Tezuka faintly remembered him wearing back in Japan in a magazine article, his beloved camera cradled in his hands and his eyes staring out at the reader; Fuji smiling at the crowd from outside of some art museum in New York City where his latest photography exhibition was being showcased, broadcasted on the news channel all the way in Tokyo.

Tezuka had never stopped, no matter how many times Atobe had told him to stop pining over Fuji like a teenage girl (and Tezuka distinctly remembered he retaliated by pouring Atobe's fruity cocktail right over Atobe's fruity head), no matter—

"Kunimitsu. Kunimitsu. Can you hear me?" Atobe's annoyed voice barged into Tezuka's thoughts again, and slowly, the edges of the grand ballroom, with the glittering crystal chandelier and the gold detailing on the doors, slid back into focus and Tezuka pinned his eyes on Atobe.

"What?" Tezuka snapped, retreating even further against the wall, as in some hope that Fuji wouldn't see him if Tezuka seemingly managed to melt into the wall.

"I said," Atobe repeated, speaking slowly, "that we should go over to Fuji and—"

"No," Tezuka said immediately. "He won't want to talk to me."

Atobe sighed in exasperation, used to dealing with Tezuka when his friend became obstinate over one particular Fuji Syuusuke, such as at times like this.

"Kunimitsu, I said this before, and I'll say it again: I don't know what the _fuck_ happened between you two, but come on – we're just going to go say hello." Atobe arched an eyebrow at Tezuka in a way that only _Atobe Keigo_ could pull off so well.

"It's what well-mannered people do, you know," Atobe added in a light tone, riling up Tezuka's shot-to-hell-and-back nerves even more.

"Fine," Tezuka conceded, wishing that he had brought his whole bottle of aspirin with him to this party (this party _with Fuji_, his mind added not-too-helpfully). "Just 'hello', and then I'm getting the hell out of here."

"Aw, Kunimitsu," Atobe murmured fake-sympathetically as the two friends started to push their way through the crowd towards Fuji. "You're such a party pooper."

"And you," Tezuka hissed, "are an idiot."

Atobe pretended he didn't look _that_ hurt.

* * *

Tezuka's heart pounded louder and his glasses started to slip at the perspiration that slowly started to work its way down his face as slowly, the crowd parted and Atobe and Tezuka moved closer. Tezuka thought he could hear Fuji's melodious voice over the buzz of the crowd, but then again, he wasn't really sure. 

Finally, Fuji finished his conversation with the Minister of Humanity, or something silly like that, and his head cocked to the side, just like it did back in high school, as Fuji grinned at Atobe.

"Atobe," he called out, his voice the same as ever, maybe a note deeper, but otherwise, unchanged.

"Fuji," Atobe said warmly, and they shook hands. Tezuka wanted the crowd to swallow him up again just so he could get away from Fuji, Fuji standing here in person again, Fuji in a neatly-ironed suit that looked rather awkward on Fuji's lean frame – Tezuka knew that Fuji preferred soft sweaters and comfortable slacks anyways.

But Tezuka couldn't move; he was riveted to the spot as he watched the corners of Fuji's mouth twitch before breaking out into another smile, and the toss of his hair in the yellow light.

"Imagine seeing you back in Japan," Atobe drawled, and Fuji laughed at this, a clear, fresh sound that grated horribly in Tezuka's mind. He should leave, he really should—

But then Fuji turned his head and his bright blue eyes flew open as they locked onto Tezuka's blank face.

They stared at each other for the longest time, Tezuka and Fuji, Kunimitsu and Syuusuke, before Fuji forced his head away and looked back at Atobe. "I know, it's odd being back here," he said, forcing a brittle laugh that didn't sound anything like the one before. "Excuse me," he murmured, and he stepped away, making towards Tezuka.

Tezuka caught Atobe's eye and Atobe smirked at him in a "this is it" kind of way that made Tezuka feel a bit sick, but at the same time anticipation hummed in his veins.

"Kunimitsu," Fuji said, grinning, as soon as he walked up to Tezuka. Even after all of those years, Fuji was still just slightly shorter than Tezuka, and Tezuka regarded that too-familiar face that was being presented to him, those closed, guarded eyes that Tezuka _knew_ how to open up, those bangs that fell delicately across his face, mingling with Fuji's long lashes, and those kissable lips, perfect and pink, that Tezuka desperately missed.

But even amongst all of those memories bombarding him, Tezuka steeled himself and kept a calm face, uttering only a single word.

"Fuji."

Fuji's face fell and he looked at the marble-tiled ground, before smiling back up at Tezuka as effortlessly as ever, eyelashes separating to reveal his startling blue eyes.

"I think this might be a good time for us to have a talk," Fuji murmured.

"In private," Tezuka agreed.

Fuji's eyes darted around the ballroom, and he motioned to Tezuka. "This way," he said, his voice low and almost seductive.

Fuji disappeared into the crowd, much like how he had disappeared in the airport when Tezuka had last seen him.

Tezuka had little choice but to follow.

* * *

"They're gone already? Che, I thought they would've lasted longer than that." 

Atobe rolled his eyes and looked down to see the gleaming eyes of Echizen Ryoma staring amusedly up at him.

"Shut up, brat. They're only going to talk. And Fuji back in Japan is one thing, but you too?"

Echizen Ryoma, ranked #3 in the pro tennis circuits in the world. He heated up the charts in Japan, before turning pro after high school graduation and proceeding to heat up the charts around the world. "I missed you too, Monkey King," Ryoma said dryly. "And once I heard from Kikumaru-senpai that Fuji-senpai was going to be returning to Japan, I knew that I couldn't miss all the fun." He smirked, and Atobe sneered back in response.

…the little brat.

* * *

Out in the courtyard and away from the warm, celebratory atmosphere of the ballroom, Tezuka and Fuji stood underneath a sakura tree and simply stood in silence, each of them trying to figure out the right words to say. 

The only light was from the crescent moon dipped in the sky, and the small lights adorning the sakura trees.

The words tumbled from Tezuka's mouth, faster than he could halt them, coming out harsher than he had intended them to. "Why did you come back to Japan?"

Fuji winced slightly and the smaller man tilted his head up to gaze solemnly into Tezuka's golden-brown eyes. "I wanted to see you again," Fuji finally said, his voice soft and vulnerable.

"Kunimitsu…I also wanted to apologize…for what I said so many years ago," Fuji continued haltingly, almost painfully. "I…it wasn't right of me to say that, and I'm sorry."

Tezuka looked away as Fuji said those words. He couldn't bear to look at Fuji's perfectly-defined face in the dim light in the courtyard, not right then. He couldn't bear to look at Fuji's eyes desperately seeking him out, asking for forgiveness.

Anger and hurt flooded over him, like salt pouring into newly-opened wounds. It stung all over his body, and Tezuka flung his back against the sakura tree, cold and hard, but it felt good to him, to feel some real pain.

Tezuka's name floated from Fuji's lips, sensual and enticing. "Kunimitsu…"

Tezuka whirled to snap his gaze on Fuji. "You forgot one thing," he said, speaking for the first time in ten minutes.

His whole body hurt, especially his head, and it was so _Fuji_ to make Tezuka confused and frustrated and regretful all over again, for the second time in six years.

"You're apologizing too late," Tezuka spat out bitterly.

-_to be continued…_-

**A/N:** Ohnoe! What will happen now to Fuji? Or will Tezuka cave in to Fuji? -plays dramatic music-

Yes, yes, I _know_ Tezuka was so unbearably OOC in this chapter :( And there wasn't as much AtoTezu snark, but uh, look, it's Ryoma! Yay? (He's here to stay, by the way. Atobe's not going to like that.)

Next chapter - we finally find out what happened between Fuji and Tezuka!

**Review!!** I'd love to hear what you think of my story so far. Thanks!


	3. Hanabi

**Across the World and Back Again** **- Chapter Three**

_Hanabi_ - fireworks (in Japanese)

**author: **Peppermint Kiss

**date:** 1.15.08

**disclaimer:** I tried to take Tezuka and Fuji and basically the whole cast of TeniPuri, but I didn't succeed. Because I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**author's notes:** Warning: Very flashback-heavy this chapter. This chapter, there's finally some (good, yummy) TezuFuji action! Yay! And we finally find out what happened to cause the current problem. Sorry for the late update, but I was swamped with break and then schoolwork - but I'm updating now :)

* * *

"_You're apologizing too late," Tezuka spat out bitterly._

* * *

Fuji reeled back, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Tezuka's breath came out in harsh, panting gasps, feeling as if he had run a marathon and back just by seeing Fuji again. 

Shocked blue eyes, the deepest blue Tezuka had ever seen, stared hopelessly up at Tezuka and Tezuka abruptly turned his head away. "Don't, Fuji, just _don't_," he whispered, his voice strained and his head pounding.

"Kunimit—Tezuka," Fuji started, correcting himself with a sad look, and Tezuka's heart betrayed him when it ached to hear Fuji's melodic voice shape the syllables of his name, Kunimitsu, so perfectly instead of just "Tezuka", which in his mind sounded cold and distant. "That was so many years ago, and I was wrong, I was so very wrong," Fuji continued, a pleading tone entering his voice. Tezuka swallowed, Fuji's distress too-obvious to him, but he refused to forgive the lighter-haired man, after all that Fuji had put Tezuka through.

"Tezuka, I'm asking you, with all that I have, for you to forgive me," Fuji finished softly, averting his eyes from Tezuka's unblinking gaze.

Silence stretched between the two men standing alone in the cold, barren garden of the hotel. The sparkling lights strung between the sakura trees blinked merrily upon Fuji's face, setting a glow upon it that reminded Tezuka too strongly about the days, back when Fuji still laughed freely and when Fuji's small hand threaded through his larger one and Tezuka would pull him in tight.

The moment was broken when the ballroom inside of the hotel burst into loud, raucous cheers, and suddenly, a firework whizzed up and exploded in the inky sky, the embers crackling as they rained down and lit up the whole area in a magical light.

Tezuka remembered that Fuji had always adored fireworks, and often on Japan's National Day in February, they would sit together on some distant hill in Tokyo and watch the fireworks explode in the masses.

_Fuji snuggled in closer to Tezuka, and Tezuka almost objected that Fuji didn't need any more warmth based on the two sweaters and overcoat he had piled on before venturing out of the house. However, when Fuji sighed happily, his breath warm and penetrating through Tezuka's coat, Tezuka let him be, and even awkwardly inclined his own head so that he might lean on the tip of Fuji's head._

_Fuji hummed in contentment as a particularly exciting round of silver and gold fireworks finished up and the night was momentarily blanketed in silence, interrupted only by the shouts and murmurs of the people gathered below to view the fireworks across Tokyo._

"_I love fireworks," Fuji mumbled, and Tezuka thought that rather redundant, based on the rapt look and enthrallment obvious on Fuji's face throughout the whole show up to this point. _

"_I noticed," Tezuka replied a bit dryly, but made up for it when he tilted Fuji's head up and pressed slightly chapped lips against Fuji's. _

_Fuji willingly opened his mouth to Tezuka's questing tongue, and he moaned deep in his throat. Tezuka's gloved hands sifted through the fine hairs on Fuji's head, unprotected by the warm knitted hat that Fuji had been unhealthily attached to since he was thirteen._

_Fuji finally pushed Tezuka away, though, and Tezuka made a small noise of protest. "It's too cold to make out," Fuji pointed out, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And plus," he continued, indicating towards the sky, "the fireworks are starting up again."_

_Tezuka rolled his eyes good-naturedly, an act that probably would never have occurred in public had it not been Fuji to whom he had been speaking. "It's good to know, Syuusuke, that the pretty fireworks are better than me," he told Fuji._

_Fuji grinned at Tezuka, the light from the fireworks dancing his eyes. "Saa, Tezuka, I think you're pretty too," Fuji replied, and after contemplating for a bit, added, "Maybe even prettier than the fireworks."_

_Tezuka laughed and held Fuji tighter to his body, so that their hearts almost beat in rhythm. A content silence, broken only by the explosion of the fireworks, hovered over the two boys._

_"Ne, Syuusuke, have you thought about what you want to do after high school yet? This August, when school starts again, will be our last year at Seigaku High, and then we're going to have to start applying to colleges."_

_Fuji sighed wistfully and shifted in Tezuka's arms. "I've actually thought about attending an art school," he admitted. "If my grades are good enough, perhaps I'll get a scholarship."_

_"That would be nice," Tezuka murmured, the dark atmosphere and Fuji's warm, enticing presence making him a bit sleepy. "Just...don't leave me."_

_Fuji reached up and lightly brushed Tezuka's lips with his own. "I would never do that, Kunimitsu."_

* * *

"The fireworks are beautiful tonight, aren't they?" Fuji replied mildly upon finally having accepted Tezuka' silence. 

"You always liked fireworks," Tezuka muttered.

Fuji kept his head inclined towards the sky and the fireworks display. "And so I did," Fuji murmured.

* * *

_Six years ago..._

It was a crisp spring day in May of Tezuka's and Fuji's senior year in high school at Seigaku. The school buzzed with activity as students of all grades started pulling out study guides for the exams quickly approaching at the end of the month, and rumors circulated throughout the seniors about who was attending what school.

Tezuka was floating on clouds (although he would never publicly admit it) after Todai (the University of Tokyo) had accepted him and Tezuka had dashed off a letter so quickly saying he would go to their school that the words had blurred together and smudged and he had had to slow himself down and write a new letter.

And that was saying something, because Tezuka Kunimitsu was perfect and had never before smudged the ink, ever, on any sort of document.

Right now, Tezuka had his calculus homework spread out in front of him, but the numbers and symbols started to warp in odd shapes in his mind, and he pushed it aside as a lost cause. He glanced out of the window, and outside, everything seemed so peaceful - sunny and perfect day for tennis, although Tezuka knew that studying for the tough exams was still more important even though he had already been accepted to a top university.

Fuji, who had escaped to Tezuka's empty house (Tezuka's parents and grandparents were visiting old friends in Osaka, and Tezuka, being the model son, had been entrusted with the housekeeping) after his mother and his sister kept on pestering him about his colleges and his studies, was now sprawled out on top of Tezuka's neatly-made bed, his bag tossed in one corner of the room and his eyes roving over a book of American literature, assigned in English class.

"Did your top secret art school send you a reply back yet?" Tezuka inquired lazily, climbing up onto the bed and encircling his arms around Fuji's slender waist. Fuji had been dropping hints all week that he might get into a very prestigious art school that was reputed to have an amazing photography program, but despite Tezuka's prodding, Fuji had refused to reveal the name of the school until he had a final answer of yes or no.

Fuji set down his book and folded the corner of the page, even though Tezuka knew that their teacher would yell at Fuji again for ruining a good book. "Actually, I did," he replied, his voice betraying nothing. "I got accepted with a full scholarship." Fuji grinned, and it was so infectious that Tezuka couldn't help grinning back as he squeezed Fuji in a tight hug.

"Congratulations," Tezuka murmured. "Now, can you finally tell me about this art school?"

"Well, I have to first say that it was definitely a surprise that they even wanted me - I guess they were impressed with my portfolio," Fuji started out, his voice wondrous and disbelieving, even though he was marked as a tensai in everything he attempted. "But, I got accepted into the School of Visual Arts...in New York City."

Tezuka abruptly released Fuji from his grasp and turned around so that Fuji was facing him. Tezuka was confused, utterly confused at Fuji's words. "New York City?" he asked, and his heart sank when Fuji nodded in confirmation.

"But what happened to staying together, forever?" Tezuka asked, his voice very small and sounding like a scared little boy.

Fuji laughed nonchalantly. "Kunimitsu, it's only for a few years," he said in a reassuring tone. "I'll visit often, I promise."

Tezuka couldn't believe it. Fuji...in New York? They had probably never been this far apart in all the time they had known each other, much less gone out with each other.

"No," Tezuka said distractedly. "I - Why New York? There are perfectly good art schools in Kyoto, Osaka, and even in Tokyo. Todai has an extremely well-reputed Fine Arts program..."

"But Kunimitsu, you don't understand," Fuji said, rather patiently. "I got a full scholarship to one of the top ten ranked photography schools in America - this is one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that I have to take, and I know that I'll never get the proper training and publicity that I want, and need for my photography, if I stay here in Japan."

Tezuka felt like asking, "but what about me?", but for once, he stayed silent, staring at the cover of his bedspread.

"But why can't you stay in Japan?" Tezuka pressed on, obstinately. "We promised each other, Syuusuke, too many years ago to remember, that we would always stay together and--"

"Kunimitsu," Fuji suddenly snapped, the last bit of his restraint splintering and falling into dust, "It has always been my dream to attend the School of Visual Arts - I've only read and heard about this school in the papers, and now I get the chance to actually go there. Your dream allows you to stay in Japan, and if that's what you're happy doing, fine. But I don't understand why my dream has to be deferred and potentially crushed just because mine clashes with yours. What is your _problem_, Tezuka? Why can't you just accept that I really want to do this, and if I pass this up, I'll never get another chance? The past was the past. Times have changed, and you, of all people should know that."

Fuji looked like he had more to say, but he paused, his breath heavy, his eyes raging blue fire. Tezuka had never seen Fuji so riled up before, and he realized that Fuji must really have loved this art school.

However, Tezuka wanted to try one last attempt at swinging Fuji over, because he had spent long hours staring up at the ceiling of his room, wondering what life would be like without Syuusuke in his life, and he determined that it would be impossible to exist without Fuji's soft voice complementing everything he said, Fuji's aristocratically elegant fingers touching him and lighting Tezuka on fire everywhere, and that rare, gentle smile that Fuji revealed only for Tezuka's eyes.

"But Syuusuke...isn't that what people in love do? They stay together...forever..."

Fuji's eyes blazed ominously, and he swung his legs off of the bed, his English book skidding to the floor as his feet landed with a hard thump. He picked up the book, shoving it in his bag, and Tezuka sat on the edge of the bed, one hand limply reaching towards Fuji.

"Syuusuke...don't you love me?"

Fuji swung his bag on his shoulder, and took one long, hard look at Tezuka.

"Not enough," he retorted harshly, the words stinging in Tezuka's mind for a long time, before Fuji Syuusuke stormed out of Tezuka's bedroom door, and quite possibly, out of Tezuka's life.

-_to be continued..._-

**A/N:** Well, there was the issue, the whole thing that started our current TezuFuji problem. Sorry for no Atobe and/or Ryoma this chapter round...too much angsting about the past, haha. But, no worries, once we return to the future the next chapter, our snarky pair make their return!

Ummm. Yes, I actually do research on these schools (such as Todai, and the School of Visual Arts). The School of Visual Arts in NYC has a fabulous photography program (ironically, better than the NY Institute of Photography, I think) according to the U.S. News Report - the SoVA was ranked 5, I believe, in their list of top photography schools in America, and although I may be wrong, the SoVA was definitely within the top 10 schoolsor so.

Well, I hope all of you readers enjoyed finally knowing the dispute between Tezuka and Fuji, and all opinions on this will be gladly received, so **review!!** Now, we just have to wait to see if Tezuka will forgive Fuji...or not. :O


	4. Dreaming

**Across the World and Back Again** **- Chapter Four**

**author: **Peppermint Kiss

**date:** 5.08.08

**disclaimer:** I tried to take Tezuka and Fuji and basically the whole cast of TeniPuri, but I didn't succeed. Because I don't own Prince of Tennis.

**author's notes:** Yay! The story's back to the present now. Warning: angsting!Tezuka heavy plus melodrama and overreactions galore. Yeah, my Tezuka's kind of OOC, but wouldn't this be what you would do in his situation? Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"How easy do you think it is, _Syuusuke_," Tezuka ground out bitterly, his eyes darkened with emotion, "to accept your apology, six years late, after you told me that you didn't love me _enough_ to stay by my side? Did you lie to me every time you told me you loved me when we were together? Why were you so selfish, so eager to satisfy your own needs that you didn't think about me? A compromise could have been reached, Syuusuke, if you had fully opened your eyes in our relationship!" The words tumbled out of Tezuka's mouth before he could stop them, question after question rolling out of the vault he had locked them up in after Tezuka had finally gotten over the fact that Syuusuke was indeed not coming back to Japan.

Fuji, his eyes downcast, raised them to stare regretfully at Tezuka, and Tezuka had to remind his heart to continue beating at one glance from Fuji's stunning cerulean eyes.

"I think we need to talk," Fuji murmured, his voice just barely above a whisper. "I came back to Japan to talk to you, to apologize, but I don't think my plan worked out too well."

Tezuka fixed Fuji with steely eyes. "You thought it would be easy to apologize to me and get on with your life?" he exclaimed, in disbelief. "Then you had no idea how much you hurt me." The last words were spat out with as much contempt Tezuka could muster at the moment, and he felt a twinge of satisfaction when Fuji visibly winced at Tezuka's words.

"I'm staying at the Marunouchi hotel," Fuji continued, as if Tezuka hadn't said anything. "Ask for me at the front desk. Is three o'clock tomorrow all right for you?"

"It's fine," Tezuka replied stiffly. "The Marunouchi hotel?"

"My stay in Japan wasn't planned to be too long," Fuji mumbled, averting his eyes. "Well then, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow." He made to leave, and Tezuka's eyes traced his every movement. He wanted to reach out and grab Fuji's sleeve, tell him that he accepted his apology and could they go back to what they were before?

But instead, Tezuka stayed rooted to the spot he occupied next to the lonely sakura tree, his eyes only fixed on Fuji's receding shadow until a cab pulled up and Fuji got into it. A moment later, the cab raced away and Tezuka realized that even though Fuji badly wanted to apologize to him, he had never said the reason why – for all Tezuka knew, this could just be another plot to toy with his emotions, right when Tezuka had finally begun the painful process of healing the scars.

"Syuusuke, come back," Tezuka whispered pathetically in the darkness, the only sounds being the light buzz that emanated from the hotel ballroom and the light wind whispering in his ears. "I miss you already."

* * *

In the ballroom, Echizen Ryoma craned his neck around a potted plant, and the tennis prodigy's golden eyes widened. "Oi, Monkey King, I found him!"

"Which one?" Atobe asked, annoyed, striding up to the potted plant, a martini balanced delicately in between perfectly manicured fingers.

"Tezuka-buchou, who else," Ryoma replied, his voice slightly muffled by the leaves of the obviously artificial potted plant. "I think Fuji-senpai just left in a cab." Atobe thought it rather endearing that the little brat still hadn't outgrown the old school habit of calling his older teammates "senpai" and Tezuka "buchou". Along with the whole endearing thing though, Ryoma still took glee in taunting Atobe with that dreadful nickname, "Monkey King".

"Did you see what happened?" Atobe asked in what he hoped sounded like a nonchalant voice. Truthfully though, he was worried about Tezuka because just the day before he was moping about Fuji (again), and suddenly, the other man barged back into Tezuka's life without any forewarning.

"I think they had a fight," Ryoma called. "Tezuka is just standing outside right now, do you think he's okay…? Monkey King?"

Muttering about damn Monkey Kings and being unreliable, Ryoma squirmed out from behind of the potted plant and blinked when all that was left of Atobe's presence was an empty martini glass.

A distance away, Atobe was speaking in a low voice into his cell phone. "Hello? Yes, I need the car to come to the event right now…no, no, it's to take Tezuka home…he needs to leave early, he isn't feeling too well. Yes, we'll be there…thanks, bye."

He flipped the phone shut, and sighing at the ridiculous drama that had wrapped itself up around Tezuka, and Fuji, Atobe strode out of the doors, heading towards the courtyard, and Tezuka.

* * *

It was safe to say that Tezuka was a shell-shocked mess when he got home that night, dazedly replaying the conversation he had with Fuji over and over in his mind and trying to remember which words he said. If it hadn't been for Atobe, Tezuka could probably have safely surmised that he would have stayed under that sakura tree all night, his eyes unfocused, and his mind only filled with thoughts of Fuji.

Somehow, once Atobe had rather ungraciously dumped Tezuka onto his bed in his apartment with threats of calling him at an ungodly early hour the next morning to make sure Tezuka was still alive, Tezuka had managed to fall asleep, and it was only at the shrill beeping of his cell phone on the bedside table did he realize that yes, it was morning, and yes, Atobe was keeping to his promise of calling at the lovely hour of – Tezuka squinted – six thirty AM.

He blearily scrabbled around for his phone, finally succeeding and managing a groggy "what?"

"Oh good, you're alive," Atobe's voice said at the other end, punctuating his words with an unnecessary dramatic sigh of relief.

"Fuck off, "Tezuka mumbled, and promptly hung up on Atobe, ignoring the indignant squawks issuing from the phone as he flipped it closed and flung it to some random corner at the foot of his bed.

As morning light filtered through his window blinds and sliced across the bed, Tezuka wondered if last night had actually occurred, or if he had just dreamed it all up. Tezuka scrunched up his forehead, his head hurting too much to think clearly (he had had perhaps one too many flutes of champagne). If it _had_ been a dream, Tezuka thought that it hadn't been a particularly good one. Usually his Fuji-dreams were a lot nicer, and often involved those breathtaking kisses that Fuji had been particularly good at delivering and knocking all semblance of sense out of Tezuka.

Deciding that he couldn't go back to sleep now (it defied his circadian rhythm), Tezuka sat up, disoriented, and realized that he was still wearing the tuxedo that he wore to the party last night.

He froze, examining the wrinkled white dress shirt, the tailored black jacket flung on the floor, and the bow tie hanging haphazardly off of one side of his collar.

If last night had really happened…and if Tezuka correctly remembered every single word that had issued from his lips…

God, he had been such a stupid fool.

* * *

Atobe decided that working on the weekend was a bunch of bull, especially during New Year's weekend, because the stock market was closed, anyways. So at 2:30, he set out in his car, headed towards Tezuka's apartment to see if his friend had managed to hang himself or drown himself in the toilet yet (although Atobe had taken the care of stashing away all items that might possibly be used for suicide the night before, but one never knew what creative method of suicide a depressed victim could come up with).

As Atobe pulled up to Tezuka's apartment building at 2:45, he noticed a man emerging from the building in a very attractive tan Burberry trench coat (he could tell the label from a distance away, Atobe was that good) and shades, picking his way down the sidewalk to the bus stop. Upon closer inspection (Atobe had a Burberry trench _exactly_ like it), he realized that the mysterious man was _Tezuka_, and the Burberry trench Tezuka was sporting was _his_. Atobe made a mental note to get it back from Tezuka, because he had liked that trench, all of the two times he had wore it before Tezuka somehow managed to swipe it from his immense closet.

A bus rattled up to the stop, and Tezuka got onto it, and Atobe wondered why. If he knew the other man correctly, Tezuka would wallow in misery all day until Atobe forced him to get up and do something. And nobody made Tezuka get up and do anything if he didn't want to, except for Atobe…and Fuji.

That was it!

"Follow that bus!" Atobe barked, feeling much like a secret spy chasing a bus in the middle of Tokyo.

"Sir, I can't," his chauffeur replied. "There's too much traffic."

Atobe panicked, slightly. "Well, do it," he snarled. "I pay your salary."

The chauffeur gulped, and within two minutes, he had manipulated his way through the crush of traffic and was now speeding down the street after the bus.

* * *

Tezuka got off the bus and admired the impressive building of the Marunouchi hotel for a moment before briskly striding inside, not noticing a familiar sleek black Mercedes roll to a stop just outside the front doors as well.

The receptionist looked up as Tezuka stepped inside. "How may I help you?" she asked brightly.

"I'm here to see Fuji Syuusuke," Tezuka said, slipping off his sunglasses and tucking them into a pocket of Atobe's Burberry trench coat that Atobe had dumped at his place one time after a night of too many drinks, and if Atobe didn't bother to come retrieve it, Tezuka wasn't going to bother returning it.

"Ah, yes, Fuji-san left a message here last night…" the woman rummaged through a stack of papers next to her, before finally pulling the one she wanted out. "Are you Tezuka Kunimitsu?"

Tezuka nodded his silent assent.

"He's expecting you. He's on the sixth floor – room 607." She smiled at him, and Tezuka forced a weak smile back, before he headed to the elevators.

Atobe, hearing the exchange from where he hid behind a large map of Tokyo in the corner, quirked up an eyebrow before stuffing the map into a trash can and following Tezuka to the elevators, bumping into a person engrossed in his cell phone with a white cap pulled low over his eyes.

"Sorry," Atobe mumbled, brushing past.

"Hey, Monkey King!" Atobe whirled around, annoyed, and met the eyes of one Echizen Ryoma.

"What are you doing here, brat?" Atobe spat out, not pausing in his stride to the elevators.

"I _live_ here," the brat replied back, haughtily.

Atobe paused, facing Ryoma again. "Which floor?" he asked, jabbing the up button.

"The seventh," Ryoma said in a surly tone. "And since you'll be wanting to know which room, probably – room 707."

The elevator doors chimed open, and Atobe yanked a surprised Ryoma in with him, and punched the button for the seventh floor. "Excellent. I'm going to need to use your room."

"I—what? Why?" Ryoma demanded.

"Because we need to help Tezuka and Fuji," was all Atobe said.

* * *

Tezuka stood outside of room 607, pretty sure that that was what the helpful receptionist had said downstairs, and, his heart beating rapidly and thudding in his ears, he rapped on the door. Three quick knocks.

There were light footsteps, a pause, and then the sounds of locks being undone and the knob twisted and Fuji stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Tezuka.

"You came," was all Fuji said, simply, and he stepped aside, allowing Tezuka to come in.

The room was more of a suite, and that was to be expected since the Marunouchi hotel only catered to the best. There was a small sitting area with a couch and two armchairs facing the splendid view of Tokyo offered from the balcony, a small dining and kitchen area next to it, and a hallway leading down to the bathroom and the bedroom. Fuji motioned that Tezuka should sit, so Tezuka settled himself, rather uncomfortably, on the couch.

"I'll get some tea," Fuji murmured, just to fill up the awkward silence. For the moment, when they weren't saying anything, Tezuka was content just to stare at Fuji's back and watch the familiar fluid movements as Fuji poured hot water into tea cups and whisked them to perfection. Fuji had on a simple V-neck light grey cashmere sweater that clung nicely to his body and showed off his slender frame.

Tezuka nodded politely when Fuji pushed the tea over to his side of the table, but didn't say anything, waiting for Fuji to start.

"Kunimitsu," Fuji's melodic voice said, "I want you to start. Just give me everything you've got – I want to hear everything. I won't get mad. Hurt me all you want, but I just want to hear it."

Tezuka met Fuji's eyes. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Fuji bit his lower lip before saying, "Yes."

"What you did to me was the worst kind of thing a boyfriend – a lover, even – can do to their partner. You walked out of my life, Fuji! I had dreams of an ideal life in Tokyo, living with you until the ripe old age of 99, even 100, but your dreams came before me. If I had known this sooner, perhaps I could've dealt with it, but it's horrible when your needs, you wants, come before the face of true love."

Tezuka paused for breath, choosing his next words carefully.

"I prefer not to talk, and instead let other people do the talking," he said slowly. "After you left, I was so lost, so shocked at everything that had just happened so suddenly. Keigo tried to help me, but he was nothing, because he wasn't you. You were in New York, living your dream, and I was here in Tokyo, attending one of the best universities in the world, but still, my dream wasn't satisfied, Syuusuke. Without you in the picture, there was no dream! I—I couldn't go on with my life. I wanted to die!"

Tezuka knew he was bordering on melodramatic, but the words flowed from his mouth like the dam on a river had suddenly burst. He sprang up from his seat, pacing back and forth, refusing to look at Fuji's face.

"Every little thing I saw, reminded me of you. You were everywhere, yet you weren't here. I thought, every passing year, that you would come back soon, but you never did, and when I finally gave up hoping, you barrel back into my life, looking for repentance? I don't think so, Syuusuke.

But even through all of this, I still missed you, and even though I told myself that I was moving on, that you were a thing of the past, I loved you, and…I still do." Tezuka's voice broke slightly, but he persevered on. "Do you know how much I missed you, Syuusuke?"

Tears stung at his eyes, and Tezuka furiously blinked them away, as he flung his head around to stare at Fuji, who sat there, looking rather taken aback at Tezuka's venting. "Do you know how much I missed you?" Tezuka repeated hoarsely.

"No," was Fuji's quiet answer. "I don't."

Tezuka found himself moving, propelling himself around the table to where Fuji sat on the opposite side. Fuji looked up at Tezuka, confused, but Tezuka cupped Fuji's face in his hands, and looked sincerely into wide blue eyes.

"I missed you a lot," Tezuka breathed before he closed the space and kissed Fuji.

-_to be continued_-

* * *

**A/N:** So so so sorry that I haven't updated in a million and a half years :( I've just been so busy, and well one day (tonight, actually), I sat down and said, "I'm going to write some of AtWaBA." And I thought I was only going to write the beginning, but, I ended up churning out this whole chapter! Right now it's going to be really overdramatic because Tezuka's hurting and Atobe's trying his best to help and Fuji's just plain confused. But I promise I'll pull up out of the angst soon.

I hope you guys liked the AtoRyo action I tried to put in there. I love those two. :D

Well, you know the drill. **Review**!! Hopefully I'll get another chapter up soon!


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